


your touch my comfort and my lullaby

by wolfie_winchester



Series: STOP HURTING CAS 2KFOREVER [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel Needs a Hug, Castiel-centric, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Fix-it, Episode: s11e02 Form and Void, Episode: s11e03 The Bad Seed, M/M, Stop Hurting Cas 2k16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 09:27:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7262383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfie_winchester/pseuds/wolfie_winchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean manage to find and save Cas before Efram and Jonah can successfully hack his brain. Rowena lifts the spell and Dean helps patch the angel up when his grace is too weak to do the job on its own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your touch my comfort and my lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> So on a sort-of related note, I've recently gotten into Troye Sivan's music and it's so beautiful that I had to use one of the lyrics as a fic title. (The song is Ease and it's probably one of my favorites.) 
> 
> Anyway, I was re-watching season 11 last week since they're replaying it on the CW and I almost forgot how painful it was, especially my poor sweet baby Cas getting tortured by those douchebag angels and then, of course, the stupid spell. And then I realized that I hadn't written a fix-it for it (I think it was because I was working on something else when it originally aired), so this is me amending that. After watching Cas get hurt so badly, I just really needed to write something (again) where someone takes care of him for once. Hope you like it!

Darkness. It’s all Castiel knows for what seems like an eternity until the angel slaps him awake. That, and the pain. The spell Rowena cast on him digs deeper and deeper with every passing second. His grace is barely hanging on, his control slipping away from him despite how hard he tries to hold on to it. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone, but he knows that it’s only a matter of time until it takes over. It’s why he’d called the angels for help. He isn’t sure if they can lift the spell, but he knows for a fact that if they do come, they’ll keep him from attacking any humans. 

 

He isn’t expecting them to capture him, though. He knew that he wasn’t in their good graces after breaking Metatron out, but he didn’t think they’d go to the trouble of torturing him for information. At first, he hopes that maybe it’ll distract him from the spell cutting into his grace, but the pain only makes it worse, like showing red to a bull, anger that is and isn’t his boiling up inside him. Struggling proves useless, and he isn’t sure if he should be thankful for that or not. As much as they’re hurting him, he doesn’t want to kill them if he doesn’t have to. He already has so much blood on his hands, particularly that of his own kind. 

 

Castiel has been in this vessel for so long that when they threaten to cut parts off of it, he isn’t sure what will happen. His grace is weak, even weaker than before thanks to Rowena’s spell. He isn’t certain that he’ll be able to heal afterward. His pleas for mercy go unheard and when he calls one of them brother, his loyalty to the Winchesters rather than Heaven gets thrown back in his face. 

 

His voice is starting to go hoarse from screaming and when he tries telling them again that he doesn’t know where Metatron is, they just cut him again, calling him a liar. Not for the first time, he wonders if this is going to be where he dies for good. He just wishes that Sam and Dean could know what happened to him. He doesn’t want them to think he just abandoned them. 

 

“This is getting us nowhere,” Jonah says, watching as Efram circles Castiel, flipping his angel blade over and over in his hand. “We should just kill him and be done with it.” 

 

“Not until he tells us where Metatron is,” Efram replies. He drags the blade down Castiel’s shirt, fabric tearing to reveal the skin underneath. He looks up at Castiel with a smile. “Come on, Castiel. I know you know where he is. You were Heaven’s greatest strategist once upon a time. You can’t really expect us to believe that some stupid scribe tricked you.” 

 

“Please, Efram,” Castiel groans. “I am telling you the truth, I swear it.” 

 

The knife goes in just between his ribs - not deep enough to hit anything vital, but enough to cause blinding pain that has Castiel screaming again. 

 

“Maybe you are. Maybe you aren’t. We have ways of finding out, don’t we?” he says, looking over at Jonah. The other angel nods and in the next moment, there’s a metal contraption in his hands that looks all too familiar. He tries backing away when they approach him, but he’s in no condition to put up a fight. They wrestle him into the chair and strap him down. 

 

“No, please, don’t,” he begs, tugging at his restraints. Efram holds him still while Jonah puts the helmet on him. Once it’s on securely, they both step back. 

 

“That should work,” Efram says. He reaches for one of the long needles positioned near the side of Castiel’s head. “Last chance, Castiel.” 

 

“Please. Please, don’t do this. I don’t know! I don’t know where Metatron is!” he insists, tears springing to his eyes. 

 

Efram just tuts at him in disappointment and Castiel screams as he pushes the needle in. There’s no change, no sudden recitation of all his secrets, only pain that makes the spell in him flare up in defense and his body jerk in agony. Jonah watches with curiosity and Efram moves to push the needle on the other side in. 

 

He doesn’t know how long they spend attempting to hack into his brain, but he’s lost his voice by the time Efram gets fed up with the lack of success. Jonah criticizes his technique, claiming that he isn’t doing it right and they argue for a bit while Castiel takes the brief reprieve to catch his breath. He’s drenched in sweat and blood, hands shaking violently. He’s in so much pain that he can’t even think let alone try to fight back. 

 

“Let me do it,” Jonah says, scowling at Efram. The angel just rolls his eyes and throws his hands up, stepping to the side.

 

“Have at it,” he says. 

 

“Please,” he whimpers weakly. “Please. No more.” 

 

“This might hurt a bit,” Jonah says, ignoring his pleas. He reaches up to grab a needle and that’s when something starts banging on the door. Warily, the two angels pick up their angel blades, Efram approaching the door slowly.

 

Just as Efram goes to open the door, angel blade raised in his hand, it bursts inward, sending him stumbling backwards as Sam and Dean rush into the room, their own weapons drawn. Efram and Jonah react quickly, engaging the two hunters while Castiel can do nothing but sit helplessly and watch. The spell cuts deeper even now and he feels himself losing control. Too exhausted to fight it back any longer, it takes him over and suddenly, it’s not him that breaks free of his restraints and removes the wretched device from his head. 

 

Efram and Jonah are surprised to see him rise out of the chair and charge at them. The handcuffs still chained to his wrists make it more difficult to fight, but he’s not thinking about that. He’s not thinking at all as he counters their attacks blindly, turning their knives back onto them. The two collapse in a burst of light, but the spell doesn’t stop there. Instead of seeing Sam and Dean, all it recognizes are two more targets standing in his way. 

 

“Cas!” Dean shouts as Castiel takes a swing at him. “Cas, this isn’t you!” 

 

But Dean might as well be shouting at a wall for all the good it does. Castiel charges at him and Dean dodges out of the way, but he doesn’t try fighting back. Sam tries to get behind him, wrapping his long arms around the rabid angel to restrain him. He lets out a cry when Castiel slams his head backwards and the grip on him disappears as Sam brings his hands to his face. Castiel turns to attack him instead and that’s when Dean jumps in, putting him in a headlock and holding tight. 

 

“I don’t want to hurt you, Cas,” Dean says. “Come on, man. Snap out of it! It’s us!” 

 

Castiel just lets out a feral growl and struggles in Dean’s grasp, fingers clawing at his arms uselessly. Dean squeezes harder, an apology on his lips as he drags Castiel back towards the door they came in. Sam follows, a hand covering his bleeding nose. 

 

They manage to get him out to the Impala, where there’s a woman sitting in the backseat. When they get closer, Sam goes and opens the door. He drags out Rowena, wrists bound in chains and an exasperated look on her face. 

 

“Hello again, Castiel. I can see the spell is working well,” she says, grinning. She reaches up and pats him on the cheek. Castiel growls at her and she pulls her hand back. “Oi! Calm down!”

 

“Enough!” Dean snaps. “Fix him!” 

 

“And if I don’t? You can’t kill me, not without the Book of the Damned,” she says. 

 

“You’re right,” Dean replies coolly. “We can’t kill you. But you can damn well bet that when we’re through with you, you’re gonna wish we did. Now, Sam’s gonna remove those handcuffs, and you’re gonna fix Cas.”

 

Sam unlocks the handcuffs keeping Rowena’s powers in check and then presses his knife to her throat. She rolls her eyes, unfazed by the threat, but she does start reciting the incantation to reverse the spell.

 

Castiel inhales sharply, going completely still in Dean’s arms. Rowena continues the spell and he starts to shake. It’s only Dean holding him up that prevents him from collapsing. Dean calls his name and gently sinks to the ground with him, holding him until the counterspell is finished. When it’s over, Castiel shivers once before he manages to open his eyes. Everything is blurry for a moment before Dean’s face comes into focus. 

 

“Cas!” Dean exclaims, smiling with relief.

 

Castiel blinks a few times and then manages a weak smile in return.

 

“Hello Dean.” 

* * *

Once they’re all safe back at the bunker, Rowena locked up in the dungeon where they’d kept Crowley, Dean wastes no time in wrapping Castiel in a blanket. Castiel doesn’t really understand the purpose, especially when he’s not affected by the temperature, but Dean insists that it’s important he be comfortable now that he’s home again. 

 

The time is approaching midnight when Dean escorts Castiel to one of the bedrooms down the hall. He tries telling the hunter that he can walk just fine on his own, but it falls on deaf ears as Dean pushes the door open and ushers him along to the bed. He sits down and Dean takes a seat next to him, arm still wrapped around his waist. 

 

“You should get some sleep,” Dean says quietly. His thumb slides up and down Castiel’s side and it’s distracting, yet at the same time it’s soothing in a way that Castiel appreciates. “I’ll make you breakfast in the morning if you want.” 

 

“I don’t eat. Or sleep,” Castiel points out. 

 

“I know, but you should at least try. You have to take care of yourself.” 

 

Castiel lets out a little yelp when Dean suddenly hugs him tightly, face buried in his shoulder. 

 

“Dean? Is something wrong?” 

 

“I almost lost you again,” Dean mumbles. “I can’t do this anymore, Cas. You’re staying with me from now on, got it? I don’t wanna see some bastard torturing you ever again.” 

 

“I’m fine,” Castiel says, tentatively placing a hand on Dean’s back. 

 

“Are you really?” 

 

The question catches him off guard, not having expected Dean to want to talk about what he’s really feeling. That’s more Sam’s area, as the hunter would say. But Dean isn’t laughing it off or walking away. He’s looking into his eyes with a sincerity that Castiel has seen once before - right after he’d been pulled out of Purgatory by Naomi. 

 

“Are you really fine, Cas?” Dean repeats. “Because I know what it’s like, being torn apart like that. I know how hard it is afterward. And I know that I’m shit at talking about it too. I keep telling myself I’m fine, that I’m okay, but after a while it - it just becomes too much to keep bottled up, y’know?” He reaches up and brushes away a tear from Castiel’s cheek that he didn’t even realize was falling. “So, if you need to talk or anything... I’m right here for you.” 

 

Castiel swallows hard and nods, letting out a shaky breath. He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Dean’s, trying not to lose his composure. He breathes slowly for a while until he feels calmer, and then he reaches out to hug Dean tightly. 

 

“I was scared,” he admits, lower than a whisper. “I was scared of dying. Of never seeing you or Sam again. I was scared of... of losing control of myself again. When Rowena’s spell took me over, I was afraid I would kill you.” His voice breaks on the last word and he shudders. “I hate it. I hate having someone control me like a puppet. I can see everything that’s going on, but I can’t do anything to stop it. Efram was trying to do that when you came in. They were trying to hack into my brain like with Samandriel, and it hurt, Dean. It hurt so much.” 

 

He lets out a sob and buries his face in Dean’s shoulder, eyes squeezed shut and leaking tears. The memory of pain is still fresh in his mind and with his grace at lower power than usual, some of his wounds are still healing. His hair hides the places where the needles had punctured his skull, and with every breath the wounds throb and ache. It makes him wince and grit his teeth to hold back the sound that wants to escape. He hopes Dean won’t notice, because he doesn’t want him worrying or fussing over him when he’ll heal eventually.

 

But of course, Dean is very observant and he pulls back slightly, taking in Castiel’s shaking form and the pained grimace on his face. 

 

“You’re still hurt,” he realizes, touches turning even gentler now. “Stay here a second. I’m gonna get the first aid kit.” 

 

He starts to get up and Castiel’s hand shoots out to grab the hunter’s wrist. 

 

“Don’t leave me alone,” he pleads, painfully aware of how weak and needy he must sound. But he can’t make himself let go. He’s afraid that if Dean leaves, Castiel will wake up and this will all have been a pain induced hallucination.

 

“Okay,” Dean says soothingly. “Okay, I won’t leave you. But I need to patch you up, so do you think you can get up and come with me instead?” 

 

Castiel nods and he slowly rises from the bed, clinging to Dean like a lifeline. Sam is still up and they run into him when they’re on their way back from the infirmary, though he’s changed into pajamas and he looks like he’s about to retire for the night. He looks concerned when he sees the kit in Dean’s hand and the way Castiel is holding on so tightly, but Dean assures him everything is fine. 

 

“If you two need anything, you know where to find me. I’m gonna go to bed, but it’ll probably be a while before I fall asleep,” he says, gesturing to his room. 

 

“We’ll be okay,” Dean says. “I’m gonna stay with him tonight.” 

 

Castiel silently rejoices and Sam raises an eyebrow, but he simply nods and then bids them goodnight, a ghost of a smile on his face as he turns away from them. 

 

“Did you mean that?” Castiel asks once Sam is gone. 

 

“Of course I did,” Dean replies, leading him back to the bedroom. “You said you didn’t want to be alone, right?” 

 

Castiel nods. 

 

“Then it’s settled. I’ll stay with you. Unless... you don’t want me to?” he says, phrasing it like a question. He looks worried, but Castiel can also tell that if he did say no, Dean would respect his wishes and go to his own room for the night. 

 

“No, I... I do,” he says. He smiles despite the slight pain it causes him. “Thank you, Dean.” 

 

“Anytime, Cas. Now, let’s get you fixed up,” he says. 

 

They enter Castiel’s room and sit down on the bed, the first aid kit open on Dean’s lap. 

 

“Alright, I don’t know how much of it your grace has healed, so I’m gonna need to check. Is that okay?” he asks. Castiel nods. “Okay. Can you... can you take your shirt off or do you need my help? If you want to, that is. If you don’t, then-” 

 

“No, it’s okay,” Castiel says. He starts to unbutton his shirt and he needs Dean’s help to get it off his shoulders. Moving and stretching too much hurts and while he’s only bleeding a little bit, he doesn’t want to make it any worse. Dean inhales sharply at the cuts all over his chest and takes a moment to collect himself before he starts dabbing as gently as he can at them with a cloth. 

 

Castiel hisses in pain and Dean apologizes softly, fingers brushing against uninjured skin to soothe him.

 

“I think you need stitches,” Dean says after a while. “I don’t know if your grace is gonna be able to close all these up fast enough.” 

 

“O-Okay,” Castiel says, trying not to sound nervous at the thought of more pain.

 

“It’s going to be okay. I’ll try to go fast so it doesn’t hurt as long,” Dean says. “If you need to, you can squeeze my arm or something, okay? And I can always stop for a second if it gets to be too much.” 

 

“Let’s just get this over with,” Castiel mutters. He grimaces at how rude he just sounded and immediately starts to apologize. “I’m so-” 

 

“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault,” Dean murmurs. 

 

Once he’s finished cleaning all of Castiel’s wounds, he gets out a needle and thread. He sterilizes it with the hydrogen peroxide from the kit and then he threads the little string onto the end of it. Castiel grabs a fistful of blankets with one hand and Dean’s arm with the other, staring at him with wide eyes. It’s not as though he’s never had stitches before, but all he can think is that something sharp is going to go through his skin over and over again. 

 

“Shhh,” Dean soothes, rubbing his arm with his free hand. “It’s gonna be okay. It’ll be done before you know it.” 

 

He braces himself for the first moment where the needle goes in and when it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as he thought, he relaxes. It feels more like a soft tickle than it does pain, and though he’s surprised at first, he realizes that of course it wouldn’t really hurt him. While he started thinking of his vessel as part of himself a long time ago, the reality is that his true form isn’t really affected by Dean threading his skin back together. It’s not his real body, after all, and as long as he’s not being stabbed with an angel blade, everything should be relatively painless now. 

 

“Okay?” Dean asks, pausing for a second. He’s already almost done with the long vertical gash along Castiel’s side. 

 

“Yes. It... it doesn’t hurt as much as when I was human and needed stitches,” Castiel says.

 

“Good,” Dean says, smiling up at him. “You’ll be just fine, then.” 

 

Still, Dean continues talking to him and stopping every few moments to ask if he can continue. In a matter of minutes, all the places where Efram had cut him are sewn shut. Now all that’s left is for his grace to finish the healing. As for the wounds in his head, Dean decides that the only thing they can do for it is to wrap gauze around his head. It feels silly, but Dean says that until Castiel’s grace is back at full power - something that Castiel is afraid might never happen - that it’s the best they can do at the moment.

 

“There,” Dean says, once he’s done bandaging Castiel’s head. “All done.” 

 

“Thank you, Dean,” he says. He reaches for his shirt to put it back on, but Dean stops him by saying that he’s got some clean clothes to change into. Castiel follows Dean to his room and watches as Dean pulls out a faded t-shirt and a pair of flannel pants. 

 

“Here. I’ll turn around so you can change,” Dean says. He grabs his own clothes to change into and Castiel watches as he starts to undress before belatedly realizing that he’s supposed to be doing the same. 

 

He unbuckles his belt and tugs off his pants, letting them pool around his ankles before realizing that he’s also still wearing his shoes. He kicks them off along with his pants and then steps into the pair Dean gave him, smiling at how soft they are. He pulls the shirt over his head with only a little bit of pain and as he’s tugging it down, he sees Dean take his own shirt off. 

 

Castiel knows what Dean looks like in every state of undress because he’d rebuilt the man from scratch after rescuing his soul from the pit. But now for some reason, the sight of Dean’s freckled back and his bare arms makes Castiel’s cheeks warm. He looks away before Dean can turn around, picking up his other clothes and wondering what to do with them. 

 

“You can just toss them in here for now,” Dean says. Castiel looks back at him just as he’s putting on his new shirt. He feels a little disappointed, but Dean doesn’t seem to notice, for which Castiel is grateful. “I’ve gotta do laundry soon anyway,” he continues, opening up a laundry hamper and dumping his clothes in. 

 

Castiel adds his own and Dean smiles at him before going over and flopping onto his bed with a content sigh. 

 

“God, I missed this bed,” Dean says. “I haven’t slept here in weeks. We spent forever looking for you.” 

 

“Oh. I’m sorry.” 

 

“What? No! I didn’t mean that as a bad thing,” he rushes to assure him. “Sorry, Cas. I just meant that it’s nice to be back. With you, of course. I’d take a crappy motel bed or the back of Baby over this any day if it meant bringing you home.”

 

Castiel smiles at that and Dean pats the empty space next to him. There’s already a pillow on the other side and Castiel isn’t sure if it’s always been there, or if Dean somehow predicted that they’d end up here. He joins Dean on the bed and the hunter pulls him close gingerly, cautious of his healing injuries. He pulls the blankets over them and then tugs Castiel closer - close enough to kiss, the angel can’t help but think. And the longer Dean stares at him, the more Castiel starts to wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.

 

Gathering his courage, he reaches up with a hand and cups Dean’s cheek. 

 

“Dean... can I...?”

 

“Yes,” Dean breathes, closing his eyes as Castiel closes the marginal distance between them. 

 

Dean’s lips are just as soft as he thought they would be. Castiel sighs in delight and moves in closer, deepening the kiss until Dean lets out a little gasp. Castiel pulls away then, Dean chasing after him before they both open their eyes and simply gaze at each other, both of them blushing slightly. 

 

“That was nice,” Castiel whispers. 

 

“Yeah. Wanna do it again?” Dean asks, smiling. 

 

Castiel laughs softly and nods, letting Dean pull him in this time. Minutes pass - Castiel isn’t sure how many - and when they break apart again, Dean’s eyes are bright and shining, his lips pink and swollen. Castiel knows he probably looks the same and he smiles as Dean winds his arms around him and kisses his forehead. Never in his entire life has he felt so safe and at ease. He closes his eyes and Dean whispers goodnight to him, squeezing him gently one last time before Castiel finally sleeps. 

  
  



End file.
